


Holiday

by dominique012



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, First multi-chapter fic anxiety, Fluff, Holidays, Lewis Summer Challenge 2014, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 10:19:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2188083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dominique012/pseuds/dominique012
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robbie's on holiday, and James finds himself going along too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Like the villages of Midsomer, Southtorham does not exist, but is based loosely on the town of Dawlish. 
> 
> Many thanks to [Small_Hobbit ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit)for beta, britpick, and suggestions, including helping me work out my seaside village. Any remaining errors are all mine.
> 
> Inspired by (but not completely adhering to) the Lewis Summer Challenge prompt from [firthivated](http://firthivated.livejournal.com/): Robbie leaves for vacation. James secretly follows him hoping to "inadvertently" run into Robbie and see if all those undercurrents are just his imagination and whether being away from work/Oxford will make a difference.

Robbie set his glass down on the table and leaned back in his chair. He gazed out over the river. 

“I’m in real danger of starting to relax here.”

Hathaway glanced up with a dour face. “I’m aghast. Fight it, sir. Fight to the death.” He looked back down at his book.

Robbie grinned. “What are you doing _reading_ at the pub, anyway?”

Hathaway snapped it shut. “Just skimming, sir. A first edition I’d been waiting for.” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What have you got to be relaxed about?”

Hathaway was quite cheerful tonight. Well, by his standards. Robbie didn’t mind it. 

“I don’t know. It’s the heat, maybe.” It had been working its way up all week, and now, Friday evening, it was hot and bright and about as summery as it was ever going to get. “Or maybe I’m just starting to unwind after our God-awful week.” Murder. Meetings. Murder. Seminar. He shook his head. 

“Speaking of unwinding...” Hathaway gave him a knowing look. 

“Hm.” Robbie looked away. He’d been trying not to think too much about it. He’d promised Innocent he’d take a week of leave. It was piling up, and HR hated that. Now it loomed ahead of him. Robbie knew it was a good idea: rest, change of scenery and all that. But he couldn’t say he was actually looking forward to it. 

“Where did you decide?”

Robbie sighed. “Southtorham.”

Hathaway nodded. “I’ve heard it’s pretty. Small town. Picturesque villages. Boats.” He paused, eyeing Robbie. “You’re not keen.”

Robbie shrugged. “I know it’s a good idea. I mean, lately, work has been...” His mind struggled to aptly describe it. _Horrifying? Monotonous?_

Hathaway nodded. “Quite.” 

“...And I’m tired. And the idea of a walk, a nice view - somewhere different - it’s alright. It’s good. I know it’s a good idea. For my sanity. I just think...” 

Hathaway looked thoughtful as he said, “It’s going to be a long week.” 

Robbie regarded his pint gloomily. He’d thought about asking Lynn if she fancied bringing her family along, but dismissed it immediately. They enjoyed each other’s company at home, but a holiday was something else. A holiday was for when you had little kids, or someone special, or needed time to meditate or study or something. And since none of those scenarios applied to him, Robbie couldn’t see the point. In a seaside village or on the Broad, he already knew how to skulk about alone. 

“What about if you had a companion? Someone to walk through those pretty villages with?” 

Robbie started. Had he been thinking aloud? But no, it was just Hathaway, mind-reading again.

“And who would that be, Sergeant? You?”

Hathaway snorted. “You see into my soul, sir. But my _first_ thought was the lovely doctor.”

Robbie laughed. “Are you mad, man? Me an’ Laura on holiday together?”

Hathaway looked startled. “Well. It’s not so ridiculous, is it? I mean, you’ve nearly...and then again, nearly.”

“Exactly,” Robbie said evenly. “Nearly. And then nearly again. No, I don’t think it’s - I think we’re just better as friends.” 

The truth was he loved Laura, as a close and loyal friend. But it had never felt quite right. And having known right, he refused to waste her heart, or his own, on something that could only approximate. He nodded to himself. “It’s better.”

“Well,” Hathaway shifted back in his seat. “I guess you’re left with no choice. It’s me then, sir.” He raised an eyebrow, in full wind-up mode now. 

Robbie bit back a smile. “Oh yeah? And what will we do?”

Hathaway gestured blithely to their current surroundings. “Pints. Books. Views. Just no murders.”

“Or seminars,” Robbie added darkly. “You’ve got leave too then?”

Hathaway nodded, tapping his pocket for a cigarette. “No exotic holiday for me though. Probably just a lot of reading and drinking. Maybe some guitar and some running if I’m good.” He paused, opening his mouth as though to say something more, but closed it again without continuing. 

Robbie’s mind closed around the idea of Hathaway on holiday. In the evening with that first edition and a glass of something. Waking up early some morning for a run by the river. A lazy lunch and then practice for his band. It sounded good, in a quiet, relaxed way. Why did Hathaway’s holiday seem so relaxing, and his own so dreary? Probably because Hathaway would be there, he reasoned. And then frowned. _What?_

“Pints. Books. Views.” Robbie said suddenly. Like every Friday night at the Trout, books either in Hathaway’s hands like tonight, or just in the quotes and facts that wound their way into the lad’s conversation. 

Hathaway looked at him. Robbie thought it was a good thing Hathaway couldn't always read his mind. Or maybe he wished he would so he wouldn't have to say the daft thing that was in his head.

“Sir?”

It was mad. They’d been joking.

Hathaway looked at him quizzically. “You rethinking your plans, sir?” 

Robbie shook his head. “No, no. It’s fine.” He got to his feet. “Another pint?”


	2. Chapter 2

James unlocked the front door and stepped in, putting down his jacket and tapping the light switch. 

The flat was tidy, quiet. So quiet. He sighed, wishing for the chatter of the pub; no, wishing for something else. The warmth, the banter, and companionship he so easily and - he berated himself - _stupidly_ sought in the company of his governor. A feeling of rightness that he could never resist. He swallowed, pushing it all down. Again. Ridiculous.

He poured himself a glass of water and slouched into the sofa. He’d been on the verge of saying something, when Lewis had mentioned his leave. About how he’d be at a loose end in Oxford, about how it wasn’t so ridiculous the idea of them being away together. He suspected that his own ideas of a good holiday would match up in some ways with Lewis’. 

_Pints, books, views_ he thought with a smile. He wondered what had been going through Lewis’ mind when he said that. Certainly not the idea of taking James away on holiday with him. James rubbed his face and groaned in frustration. As if dreading a lonely holiday wasn’t bad enough, the last thing Lewis needed was having to explain that he really didn’t need more time with his awkward sergeant. 

James straightened up, his gaze flitting to the laptop on the coffee table. He reached for it, and benignly opened a new tab, typing “Southtorham” into the browser. Curiosity. Just general interest. He read about the scenery. The wine festival looked interesting. A small art gallery run by a local family. The pub had rooms. He glanced sideways for just a moment, before clicking ‘Accommodation.’ 

****

Robbie stared at his phone. The screen read _Hathaway_ , and his thumb rested on the Send button. 

He was torn. Between a lonely holiday he was going to hate and the insanity of inviting his young sergeant on holiday with him. Of course he wouldn’t want to go. No copper would choose to go away with his governor. Well, not unless they were...

Robbie flushed. _Oh, for -_

He took a deep breath and imagined wandering about with Hathaway; the lad would probably never stop talking about the battle that took place in this area, or old St someoneorother who, rumour had it, had sheltered under the old oak and then blessed all the fields around it. He grinned. They could have a few beers overlooking the harbour, and Hathaway could catch up on his reading while they mocked the poor sods stuck in Oxford. They might even find some live music. Hathaway would like that.

Looking at his phone, Robbie understood that having Hathaway there would make all the difference. Turn it from a pointless, dreary week alone, to a quiet week with a good mate. 

He pressed Send. 

Hathaway answered after only a few rings. “Sir?”

“Yeah, hi. Sorry.” Robbie winced. “Listen, are you busy?”

“No...” Hathaway did sound distracted. “Just checking my email. You?”

Right. Sod it. Whatever the reaction, Robbie would handle it.

“Look, I know it’s daft, I just thought I’d check. You know I’m gonna be bored out of me mind on this holiday. I was thinking, if it was the kind of place you might like to visit, maybe you would want to come along? You can do your own thing, of course, but we could meet up for pints or a ramble or whatever?” It had come out in a bit of a rush. He added breathlessly. “It’s fine if you’d rather not.”

There was silence. 

“James?”

“Yes!” His voice rang clear through the phone line. And then, more sedately: “That sounds good, sir. It is supposed to be a beautiful little place, and I’ll just be wandering around here otherwise. Thank you. I mean, if you’re sure I won’t be imposing. “

It was as easy as that. Robbie let out a huge breath, desperately trying to exhale slowly so Hathaway wouldn’t notice. “Nah, of course not, man. Good. Great.” He paused, suddenly stricken. “I’m not sure about accommodation...” 

Hathaway spoke quickly. “Never you mind that, sir. I’m pretty sure there will be something. Over the pub, or a hostel or something. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Robbie wasn’t sure. He’d booked it a while back and it was summer after all.

Hathaway repeated. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, sir. I’ll...check out hotels now and let you know the details tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Robbie agreed. “Speak then.”

He ended the call, his heart racing from all the nerves and awkwardness he’d been anticipating. But Hathaway had seemed keen, it didn’t seem awkward. He reshuffled things in his mind. _On holiday with Hathaway._ It sounded strange - more than strange - but he didn’t hate the idea. 

 

***

Frowning, Hathaway slowly put his phone down on the coffee table. Still in his hand was a half-crumpled sheet of scrawl - accommodation sorted after a hasty phone conversation with the pub. He looked cautiously around the room, half-expecting some kind of fairy godmother for heartsick sergeants to show herself. A bewildered grin slowly replaced the frown.

_Right._ He stood up suddenly. _Right._

He strode off to look for a bag, a burst of excitement and nervous energy claiming him. 

It felt like a dream.


	3. Chapter 3

Robbie strolled down the main street, wondering if he looked as touristy as he felt. He caught sight of his reflection in a shop window. That would be a yes, then. 

The clothes were all right, he supposed: khaki trousers with strangely long pockets (courtesy of Lyn) and a polo shirt. It was the expression though that did it. A sort of puzzled _Am I relaxed yet?_ face that gave him away.

He looked away from his reflection. The road he was on ran alongside the little harbour; between the buildings he saw patches of clear water, boats moored alongside narrow wharves. The warmth of the day seemed reflected in every surface, from the gaudy cafe signs, to the tall, prickly trees and the kids’ fishing nets, buckets, and spades outside the bargain shop - bright blues and greens, dazzling whites and yellows. 

He was a world away from his normal Monday morning. 

He spotted the pub ahead - a squat building, white washed, with little flowered balconies on the top floor. A familiar lanky figure in long shorts and a white t-shirt stepped out from the shadowed doorway. He was holding a baseball cap. Robbie grinned. “‘Morning, tourist!”

Hathaway approached him with a shy smile - _Here we are, what do we do now?_ Robbie gave a little shrug in reply. 

“How’s your lodgings, then? Not too noisy?”

Hathaway shook his head. “It’s fine. You?”

“Good.” Robbie looked around them. “Fancy a walk down to the water?”

They fell into step on the narrow pavement, walking for a few minutes in silence. Hathaway stopped to look at some ukuleles at a stall on the pavement. He flipped one over, examining the wooden carving on the back. He grinned suddenly. 

Robbie frowned. “What is it?”

“This is weird isn’t it, sir? On holiday together?” 

Robbie made a face. “It will be if you’re going to be sirring me all over the place.”

“Right. _Robbie_ then.” 

It was strange how different Hathaway looked. The smile was different. 

Hathaway added quickly, “Good weird, of course.” 

Robbie nodded. “I don’t have good ideas all that often, but this one worked out.”

They continued on towards the water.

 

**** 

James stretched, his eyes closing for a moment. They’d found a bench near a tiny cafe, perfect for enjoying the view of the water. The breeze whispered along his bare arms. It was impossible to repress a happy sigh.

Robbie looked amused, “You look like a different person, lad.”

James grinned. He felt different. He felt fantastic. It was hard to keep still, despite the tranquillity around him. This strange and beautiful turn of events, the mix of the unfamiliar with the familiar, the foreign surrounds with this same-but-different Lewis - it was exhilarating and it threatened to burst out of him. Somehow, that thought just made him grin even more. 

“Holidaying agrees with you then?”

 _Holidaying with you does._ He just lifted his chin, with a nod that hopefully allowed him to appear nonchalant, rather than overjoyed.

“I think being away from Oxford helps.” It was an utter lie. It really didn’t matter where he was, did it? He knew that there was only one thing that made a difference.

“Have to get you out of the city more.” Robbie’s gaze shifted back to the water. 

James just breathed it in.

 

***

A patch of sunlight filtering through the trees overhead made a triangle on the back of James’ neck. The lad was so fair. Robbie absently touched the back of his own neck.

They were sitting on a low wall under a tree. James had somewhat magically found a wine tasting event nearby, and they’d sampled a few local reds over some lunch. They’d been ambling their way back to the main street when James had stopped to check something on his phone.

James looked up. “There’s a church. Very old. I thought I might have a look...” He sounded uncertain. 

Robbie scrutinised him, suddenly wondering if James wanted some time to himself. They’d spent the whole morning together, and a church, that might be more of a solitary thing. 

“It’s supposed to be beautiful. I don’t know if you’d want to - “ 

“Nah. I think I might head back to the hotel for a bit.” He kept his tone light, but Robbie suddenly felt deflated. He would have liked to continue their afternoon together, but he didn’t want James to feel like he had to humour his old governor all day long. “You go ahead. If you’re...we could meet up later.” 

James nodded. “Sure, sir...Robbie.” He frowned. “I’ll text you later.” He got to his feet. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Robbie gave him a quick smile and a nod. 

As he watched James walk slowly away, he was surprised to realise that ‘in a bit’ couldn’t arrive quick enough. This whole day, from the bright morning to the lazy lunch and quiet walk had been perfect. Robbie had not once felt bored or lonely. Their rhythm together - even on holiday - had felt just right. Hathaway - James - had made it perfect. Just by being there. 

Robbie’s gaze locked on to the bench next to him where Hathaway had been sitting. He was suddenly very aware of his breathing, of the space around him. Hathaway had made it perfect? 

He stood up. Hathaway was out of sight now, just the trees and the breeze and the sun surrounded him. 

***

Three hours later, Robbie was in a tiny tourist trap, looking half-heartedly at some wooden combs. He wondered vaguely if Lynn would like one. A low voice to his right made him jump. 

“I think you can do better, sir.”

Robbie looked around to a familiar smirk. So they were back to ‘sir’ again.

“I know,” he admitted. “Nothing here seems quite right.”

“There are some hand-carved whistles down the road. They’re really bright and not too loud. Your grandson might like one.”

“‘Not too loud,’” Robbie repeated. “How do you know?”

Hathaway looked around bashfully. “I might have tried one out.”

Robbie grinned. That funny shy grin was somehow going to be his undoing, he just knew it.

“How was the church?”

James’ face brightened. “It was beautiful. So much history.” He pulled out a paper bag. “Since you didn’t want to come, I got you some postcards.”

“Thanks.” Robbie took them. He looked at the photos of the church’s elaborate carving and the flowering bushes by the old graveyard. “I can post Lyn a line.” He led the way of the shop. 

On the street, he turned to the lad. He wanted to be clear. “So you know, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to visit with you, I thought you might like to go on your own.” He raised an eyebrow. “On holiday with your boss, you might’ve wanted some time off.”

Hathaway looked at him, and then exhaled sharply. “I’m relieved. Actually I didn’t want...time off, but I didn’t want to push it with you. In the past, it hasn’t been your thing.” He looked down at the pavement and spoke quietly, “I lit a candle though. I hope you don’t mind.” 

He was always careful not to overstep, when it came to Val. Always referring to her as “Mrs Lewis”, giving Robbie plenty of space when he accompanied him to the cemetery.

He looked a bit worried now, and went on, as though in explanation. “I was mostly thinking of you when I did it.” As if that made more sense. 

Robbie smiled gently. “I don’t mind, man. It was a nice thought.”

As he looked at James’ uncertain expression, a wave of something surged through Robbie, but he found that neither his voice nor his body knew what to do with it. A sudden realisation hit, like a cold wind gusting through him until it culminated in a rush of words: “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”


	4. Chapter 4

Hathaway found he had stopped breathing. He took a quick breath in, just to get started again. He’d misheard, surely? Slowly, he lifted his chin to look at Lewis’ face.

Lewis’ mouth was open, and he wore a deep frown. “Sorry, I -” he stammered, and with a frustrated little grunt went on, “ I mean - look, do you want to get a pint?” 

Hathaway nodded silently. Yes. And although he must have misheard, his heart was thumping loudly in his chest, getting carried away on a wave of bafflement and excitement. Oh, what a sentence to (mis)hear.

It was fairly quiet at the pub. James had got the pints, and sat now looking distractedly around the beer garden. The warm afternoon was melting slowly into evening.

Robbie sighed and James looked at him, immediately perceiving the awkwardness and discomfort in his sigh, his shoulders, his eyes. James tried to convey some kind of comforting expression, though he knew it wasn’t his forte. He just hoped Robbie would see that he could be trusted. That he’d listen to whatever it was.

He smiled, and was happy to see Lewis’ expression soften too. “Sorry, lad. That just came out of nowhere. Not nowhere, but...”

James gave a vague head-shake-shoulder-shrug, which he meant to be a supportive _Whatever you need, sir_ but was more of an urgent _Please. Tell me more._

“Laura said something to me once,” Robbie said suddenly. “During the Crevecoeur case...”

James nodded, intentionally not lingering on Dr Hobson or that case.

“She said ‘People don’t know how you feel unless you tell them’.”

James snorted with a mock eyeroll. “If she’s going to be all logical and straightforward... ” 

Lewis grinned. “I think she might have meant her and me. I don’t know. Anyway.” His eyes flitted away for a moment. “I know we don’t do feelings mumbo jumbo, but somehow it seems - “ Big sigh, and then, “ This whole holiday business only makes sense ‘cos of you. It’s only been one day, but I’m actually liking it. More than liking it. Your being here makes it right. Near perfect.” His eyes dragged their way back to James’. “I didn’t realise,” he added, sounding almost apologetic. “How much of a difference it would make.”

James didn’t usually sing. He rarely made loud noises at all. But some part of him inside was giving it a good old go. He cleared his throat and made an effort to speak calmly. “Actually, I think I might know how you feel.”

Robbie was looking intently at him, and faced with that grave, searching expression, James hesitated. His drew his hand up briefly to his mouth, wishing he had a cigarette or something to hold. “You’ve been concerned about not monopolising my time today, but the truth is I’m here because there’s no one I’d rather be on holiday with.” He gave a tiny, rueful grimace. “Given the state of my social life, you might not think that’s saying much...”

Robbie grinned and shook his head. James could almost hear the unspoken _daft sod_.

“But it is to me. It means quite a bit.” _You do. You mean a lot_

Robbie didn’t speak, and James found that he wasn’t waiting for an answer. The energy between them had shifted from the anxiety and confusion of before to something quiet, and more or less content. James glanced at his glass, and almost reached for it, but at the last minute he laid his hand on the worn surface of the table instead. It was cool under his palm. He gently traced a scratch in the wood with his finger.

Glancing up, he saw that Robbie was watching his fingers on the table. Robbie’s own hand was curled loosely about his glass. Eyes on Robbie, James continued to trace imaginary lines on the table - a slow arc with his index finger, a smooth brush with his thumb.

Robbie was silent, his gaze steadfast on James’ hand. His own hand moved slowly from his glass to rest on the table, in a similar position. 

James bit his lip. If he slid his fingertips forward a few inches, they’d be touching.

_But I won’t. I won’t._

Robbie looked up at him. James nearly jumped, with the sudden, irrational thought that Robbie could hear him.

“We could have dinner later,” he blurted, inanely. Robbie nodded with a little smile.

Regretfully, James slid his hand around the base of his glass.

 

***  
Robbie followed James closely out onto the pavement. After leaving the pub and buying his grandson a whistle (really bright, not too loud) they’d found a quiet restaurant near the water for dinner. It was a stark contrast to the countless pub meals they’d shared in Oxford, struggling with a case - or its aftermath - as they ate.

It was a beautiful night, Robbie mused. It sounded clichéd, even spoken inwardly, but for the moment he was going to let it be. Truth was, since the terrifying moment he’d decided to talk about his _feelings_ he’d overwhelmingly felt the need to move quietly and calmly within the strange, thread-like something that had wound its way around him and James, and not undo it with a lot of questions and worrying.

James retrieved the cigarettes from his pocket and lit one with a flick of his long fingers. Robbie recalled suddenly their hands on the table earlier: not touching, definitely not touching. The strange, unexpectedly charged moment that had left him wondering if he actually fancied James. Christ, it was possible, wasn’t it? It seemed obvious now – just how much better he’d felt, more excited he’d been, having the lad with him on holiday. He almost rolled his eyes.

He looked over to see James looking at him, eyebrow quirked, probably wondering what he was thinking about. “Never you mind, Sergeant.” He said lightly. “Just musing.” 

James grinned. “Yes, sir.”

They strolled down the road with only an occasional quiet word between them. James looked in at closed shop windows here and there, gazed up at the sky. Looked over at Robbie.

They reached James’ stop - the pub - all too soon.

He was a few steps ahead, and he turned to Robbie suddenly. “Nearly forgot. You left the whistle on the table at the restaurant.” He held it out.

“Ah. Silly. Thanks.” Robbie reached for it. Too quickly. As his hand made contact, he discovered he was also holding James’ fingers.

“Oh,” James looked at him with that smile. That sodding, shy grin. 

Robbie hurriedly released James’ fingers, feeling the warmth slide away from him. His gaze lingered on James’ hand, now at his side, before slowly looking up meet the lad’s eyes. James was looking at him thoughtfully. Still smiling, but not as shy now.

And Robbie was suddenly struck dumb. He wasn’t just looking at his sergeant now; he was looking at James - some strange, intense, after-dinner, nearly-touching James that made his mouth go dry and his stomach flutter.

“Thank you for dinner,” James said.

Robbie cleared his throat. “Thank _you_ ,” he said. “And for today too”

James nodded slowly. “Tomorrow, then.” He took a step backwards, his eyes locked on Robbie’s.

Robbie nodded. _Can’t get here soon enough._

He slowly turned away, looking back to see James go in.

He wondered how he would ever get to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

James looked up at the young waitress standing next to him. “Double espresso, please.” She flitted away inside. 

He was sitting at a table for two on the cafe’s terrace. He’d been planning to order a proper breakfast, but found that his stomach would have none of it. His mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Robbie, and his insides couldn’t decide between apprehension or excitement. Food seemed unwise. 

After Robbie had seen him off the previous night, he’d contemplated a run, just to burn off nervous energy. In the end, he’d stood on his tiny, darkened balcony, distracting himself with nicotine and recalling Robbie’s words, and the warm hand around his own, and the look on Robbie’s face as they’d said goodbye. These same thoughts had tormented him - deliciously - as he struggled to fall asleep.

Now, patiently waiting for coffee in the morning sun, James didn’t know what was next. He remembered Robbie’s eyes as he had stepped slowly back. A long, lingering look, as though he was reluctant to go. Leaving was the last thing James himself had wanted to do, but grabbing Robbie’s hand back, pulling him close, and claiming his mouth in a dozen kisses hadn’t seemed like an option either. He rubbed his head vigorously. _Come on, James._ It could have just been wishful thinking, and certainly not enough to go risking a partnership and a friendship. 

He looked up to see the man himself approaching. James took a deep breath. _I’m calm. I’m in control._

“‘Morning.” Robbie looked pleased to see him. “Sleep well?”

James’ breath caught, as he realised he was in no way calm, and just barely in control of his own foolish impulses. He took a moment to mentally commit Robbie’s warm eyes and relaxed smile to his memory, in case they weren’t quite the same back in Oxford. He nudged the empty chair with his foot. 

“‘Morning. Not bad.” 

Robbie joined him at the table and glanced at the menu. James immediately noticed the damp hair at the base of his neck, the blue of his shirt, the scent of his soap. It was all he could do not to lean in. He brushed imaginary nothings from his shorts. 

“I’ve just ordered coffee. Are you hungry?”

Robbie frowned quizzically at the menu before leaving it aside. “I didn’t have much of an appetite this morning.” James looked curiously at him.

“I had a bit of toast at the hotel, but...didn’t feel like anything much.” Robbie shrugged. “I usually quite like me breakfast.” 

James smiled. Wondering. Hoping. “Me too.”

His coffee arrived and James breathed in the aroma, grateful for a distraction. He took a sip. 

Robbie was watching him. 

He wasn’t imagining it. Robbie telling him how important he was, how he’d made the holiday near-perfect. Something unspoken last night, saying goodbye. And now, Robbie was watching him drink coffee.

Somewhere in his mind, a resolute and brave James turned a corner. _Do something. Say something_. He weighed up his approach and settled on something tried and true. 

He put his cup down with a clink. “Sir, you’re staring. Are you coveting my caffeine?”

Robbie raised his eyebrow, with a vaguely suspicious air. “I’m sir again, am I?”

James felt a little thrill in his stomach. He imagined Robbie’s fingers tangling in his own again.

“Well,” he tilted his head to the side. “I know we’re on holiday and here you’re Robbie. But you’re always a _little_ bit sir in my head.”

Robbie mouth twitched, and James knew he was holding back. “In your head? What am I like in your head, then?”

James grinned then, and had to look away. The street was filling up with tourists, but it was just a haze of colour and brightness. He saw nothing.

Robbie’s eyes, when he looked back, were a delight. Though his expression seemed neutral, his eyes danced with something new - at once knowing and amused, slightly uncertain, fond. James wanted to awaken it again and again.

“In my head,” James answered slowly, “You’re near-perfect. But then, I don’t know _everything_ about you.”

Robbie’s cheeks flushed, and he smiled and James felt his heart start its wild thump again.

“Anyway,” Robbie said too-casually. “I think I am coveting.” He gave James a long look. “But it’s not your coffee.”

James’ glance flickered down to Robbie’s hand, still resting on the laminated menu. It was so tempting - one smooth movement to just reach over and take his hand. He forced himself to look at the bustling pavement again, letting the tension in his body go in a wry little huff of laughter. 

When Robbie’s hand slid forward to touch his own, James nearly jumped. It was just a few moments of contact -Robbie’s hand drawing gently over his fingers and then away again- and then Robbie leaned in:

“James.” It was a bit croaky. “Have you finished your coffee yet? Only we could go now, get on with the rest of our holiday.”

James turned to him with serious eyes. “Yes. Yes, please.” He fumbled hurriedly with coins from his pocket and they clattered all over the table. 

Robbie huffed a gentle laugh. “Careful, lad. We have all day. Longer, even.” 

James smiled. They corralled the coins into a little pile, fingers bumping again. Together, they wound their way through the tables and chairs. 

They were together in a cafe, on the pavement, on holiday, on a different planet, as far as James could tell. 

They headed out onto the street, shoulders bumping, hands almost touching; into the sunshine, into something new.


End file.
